I Solemnly Swear
by Sociially-Diisoriiented
Summary: Masterpost of drabbles/one-shots written for various contests and/or competitions for the HPFC forum. Includes character-centric fics, friendship fics, romance fics, and more...
1. Table of Contents

A masterpost of all drabbles I write for challenges or competitions in the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges forum.  
Brief table of contents here includes which chapter features which characters/pairings, a rating and summary. Warnings and information as to the challenge it was written for (+prompts) are found in the chapter itself.

**Table of Contents**

1\. "The Wizengamot Games" - Draco-centric, no romance  
At his trial, Draco reflects on how Wizards enjoy games, too.

2\. "Myrtle's Death" - Moaning Myrtle, Olive H., no romance  
Not everyone remained unaffected by Myrtle's death.

3\. "Of Horses and Death" - James &amp; Sirius friendship fic with background WolfStar  
Remus' father has passed away and James and Sirius take it on them to raise the money to buy him a tombstone.


	2. The Wizengamot Games

**Note:** This story was written as part of the "Ring of Fire" game in the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges forum.  
**Challenge:** _"__Waterfall, the person who picks the card has to write 100 words, the next person in the list 200 and so on until the last person in the list has 100x the amount of players words to write. Each person has to pick a prompt.__"__  
_**Prompts: **Game Show (chosen) &amp; 600 words (10% leeway, imposed) &amp; Character death (imposed)  
**Warnings:** None, other than reference to canon character death and trial of a 17-year-old boy.

* * *

Draco's heard of Muggle TV and he's heard of Muggle shows such as game shows and reality shows. Students think he's a thick-headed Pureblood supremacist whose only talent is aggravating and insulting. And, if one is only the sum of what one is forced to become, then it's true: Draco is all of those things.

But in another life, Draco would have chosen to become an intellectual. His curiosity is vast, unlike anything anyone who knows him can imagine, and his life's rival would not have been Harry Potter but Hermione Granger.

In this life, Draco's intellectual drive is stifled and in his 6th year at Hogwarts and after, it is basically nonexistent. He'd been confined to two tasks: open the cabinet and kill Dumbledore, they had consumed him, destroyed him.

Before then, however, when the Dark Lord was merely a word tossed around the house like a prayer, not an actual being stalking the halls of his house and torturing Draco's guests and tearing apart his family, Draco read fervently.

At one point, he'd read about those boxes Muggles stayed glued in front of like Wizards watching a great Quidditch game, the television. Draco was fascinated, especially when he stumbled on the various shows featured in these boxes. The ones that interested him the most were the game shows and the reality shows, the latter for the morbid interest Muggles have in the screwed up lives of others, the former because of how Muggles craved acting like fools to win material objects or money.

It isn't until after the war that Draco actually thinks about how similar the Muggle and Wizarding World are on that front.

As he stands in front of the Wizengamot awaiting his punishment for his participation in the Second Wizarding War, Draco has a sudden, disturbing thought. '_This is our entertainment. Our game show.'_

The fifty Wizengamot members are not nearly as impressive as the civilian turnout. The room, which can easily hold two thousand or so Draco had read in his earlier days at Hogwarts, is packed full. Even the far walls where there are no seats to be had are lined with people.

'_The winners come to gloat'_, Draco thinks, disgusted at them all. He hates all of them, for having had the easy choice, for not having had to witness grown women tortured at his family's dinner table, unable to react lest the rage be turned on him or his family.

The room around him ripples in silence as the Wizengamot prepares the first trial of the day.

"First case, Malfoy family accused of atrocities committed against Wizarding kind." The Chief Warlock catches Draco's eyes and draws him into his mean, narrow-eyed stare. He's the host of this twisted game.

"Draco Malfoy, do you confirm or deny your affiliation with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and your involvement in the cold-blooded murder of Albus Dumbledore?"

_Guilty or not Guilty?_

Angry whispers assault Draco's ears. He will perhaps be the most-hated person on trial for being involved in the murder of Albus Dumbledore.

Beside him, Draco can feel his parents standing stiffly. His mother had been holding onto his hand in a bone-breaking grasp until two security Wizards had forced them apart. Now, Draco straightens his spine and lifts his chin, determined to not be the one to break the eye contact.

He's been scared for too long.

"Give him the Kiss!" someone from the audience yells.

Because they are an audience, come of their own free will to see the persecution of a 17-year-old boy. They would have gladly paid to witness the Dementors Kissing Draco's soul from his body.

What does that one game host always say in these particularly trying moments? Ah yes. _'Is that your final answer_?' The ultimatum. There's no going back.

Draco takes a deep breath, ready to reply loudly and clearly, but before he can another voice speaks up, altering the course of the Game.

"He denies."


	3. Myrtle's Death

**Note:** This story was written as part of the "Ring of Fire" game in the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges forum.  
**Challenge:** _"Waterfall, the person who picks the card has to write 100 words, the next person in the list 200 and so on until the last person in the list has 100x the amount of players words to write. Each person has to pick a prompt."__  
_**Prompts:**St. Mungo's (chosen) &amp; 100 words (10% leeway, imposed) &amp; Character death (imposed)  
**Warnings:** None, other than reference to canon character death of a young girl.

* * *

Mr. and Mrs. Myrtle came out of the room labeled "St. Mungo's Morgue." Their eyes were bloodshot red and puffy.

They approached a girl. "They told us you're the one who found her. Were you friends?"

Olive Hornby fidgeted. "W-Well…I suppose so."

From the far end of the corridor, Myrtle watched the interaction. She wanted to float up and scream "LIAR LIAR PANTS ON FIRE" but then she would destroy her parents' hopes of believing she had been happy at Hogwarts.

No, she wouldn't do that to them. But she would make Olive rue the day she'd bullied her into entering that bathroom, into crying, into taking off her glasses.


	4. Of Horses and Death

**Note:** This story was written as part of the "Ring of Fire" game in the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges forum.  
**Challenge:**_"__Me, whoever picks this card must write a story using 1 promp_t_"  
_**Prompts:** "Are you sure? My money says differently." (chosen) &amp; Character death (imposed)  
**Warnings: **mention of two off-screen deaths (one human, one animal) &amp; a blatant ignorance of how horse racing or betting actually works ... so please suspend your disbelief for the sake of this fic! :) Also un-betad. All mistakes are entirely my own, so read on with caution.

* * *

"I say we go with Buttercup."

"Are you sure? My money says differently. Say, Sassy; the odds there are way better."

"Well, it's my money , Sirius, so it doesn't matter how your money speaks."

"Oh, pulling that card, are you? Well if it hadn't been for Remus, we wouldn't have been able to convert our Galleons in the first place."

"If Remus wanted a say in this, he'd have come himself."

"Remus and I are one!"

"Well Peter would be on my side."

"Please! Peter would splinch himself in two before being made to choose sides."

James glowered at Sirius, who glowered back. They at a race track, standing inside near the betting booth, arguing over which horse to bet on.

"Look," Sirius was trying to sound calm and reasonable which struck James as a laugh since he really wasn't either of things, ever. "It doesn't matter what horse we met on, remember? We're going to win no matter what."

"Maybe so, but there is such a thing as subtlety, Pads. We don't want to bet on a horse that never wins and make ourselves look suspicious. Look at this," James pushed the DRF toward Sirius, "Buttercup's got some unexpected wins scattered over the months. The odds on her aren't great so we'll make a decent payoff and her win will put down as another unexpected performance. Sassy hasn't won a race since 1968, for crying out loud!"

"Fine," Sirius muttered. "Why do you have to be right all the time? It's bloody annoying." Grinning, James just rolled his eyes and headed off to bet.

James met Sirius in the stands after placing his bet. "The guy looked at me like I was out of my head, placing that much money on Buttercup. I told him he was a distant relative and wanted to show my support. He told me that jockey don't actually know who bets for them."

Sirius laughed. "So much for your subtlety, Potter."

"Oh, shut it, Black."

The bleachers were filling up so Sirius and James decided to stand near the fence separating the spectators from the track. They needed to be as close as possible for Sirius to cast the spell effectively, and on the right horse.

"This would have been so much less complicated if we could just have converted more Galleons," Sirius complained as they waited for the race to start.

"Where's your sense of mischief, Pads?!"

"My sense of mischief is right up there, beneath my sense of efficiency. We don't even know if the spell will work! And what then? Where will get the money?"

"We'll get the money, Pads, don't worry."

Sirius sighed and shook his head. "Sorry, Prongs. I know I'm being a downer. It's just been very stressful at home. Moony's been moping…"

"He's not _moping_, Sirius. Jesus Christ. He's grieving!"

Sirius shrugged. "I just hate to get his hopes up if this isn't going to work."

Just then, a loud voice began to speak excitedly, rambling about horses and jockeys and the fine, fine weather folks. James and Sirius looked around, disoriented, for the source of the disembodied voice. Finally, they noticed the booth attached to the main building , on a higher floor, with windows lining the wall and a man wearing headphones talking into a large microphone; megaphones around the track blasted his words to everyone in the vicinity, whether they wanted to hear the man or not.

The nice thing about the Muggle world, James thought, was that everything had an explanation.

The man babbled on and on about statistics and allusions that Sirius and James neither understood nor cared to try and understand. They just wanted the race to get started.

Finally it did with the man in the booth scream "And they're off!"

James and Sirius stared, bored out of their minds, as the horses ran round and round the track. They really couldn't understand the strange phenomenon that caused the countless grown-ups behind them to jump to their feet and scream words of encouragement, or not, at the horses they had bid on. Finally, on the last lap, Sirius discreetly raised his hand, his wan trucked under his sleeve.

"_Accelero_." With the amount of noise made by the commentator and the spectators behind them, Sirius didn't even need to bother keeping his voice down.

Suddenly, Buttercup sprang forth and started passing by the other horses. The horse had her head down but its eyes were bugling like even she was surprised. The end line was nearing and she only had two more horses to pass.

Two more…

Buttercup was now head to head with the first-place winner. The jockey turned to look at Buttercup and urged his horses to go faster, but it was no use. Buttercup was under a spell and every step she took, her speed increased. She passed the finish line with the other horse's head at level with her behind.

Sirius quickly muttered the anti-spell and Buttercup came to an immediate stop; her jockey almost went flying off her saddle.

The crowd was going crazy, and the commentator was even crazier.

"Let's get out of here before these weirdos start a riot," James yelled to Sirius over the noise.

The guy behind the booth stared at James slack-jawed when he came to pick up his winnings.

"I've never seen anybody as you, kid. That horse looked possessed!"

James took the money and he and Sirius booked it out of the place.

A few days later, James had his feet propped up on the kitchen table and was reading the Muggle newspaper when Sirius walked in.

"Listen to this," James told him. "In the sports section, '_5-year old racing horse Buttercup passed away two nights ago. The cause of death was reportedly a heartattack. It is believed that Buttercup's spectacular win on Monday afternoon was the cause._'"

Sirius gulped down a glass of water. "Shit. I told you we didn't know the consequences of the spell."

"At least she'll forever be immortalized by her spontaneous victory." James sighs, then added, as an afterthought. "How much of the winnings do we have left over? Maybe we should also get Buttercup a tombstone…"


End file.
